Costumes And A Kiss
by toxic-dreamer-2
Summary: A new addition to the Relationship Agreement results in Sheldon trying to initiate a kiss with a costumed Amy Farrah Fowler.*Shamy Fluff*


**This is basically the final chapter of a story that I don't intend to write. As such...it requires some background info in order to be fully appreciated as a one-shot.**

_**Amy and Sheldon add compromising to the Relationship Agreement (agreeing to participate in one anothers interests)...Amy joins Sheldon at some type of comic book party...she wears a costume (as well as does research on the person she is dressed as- which impresses Sheldon greatly)...**_

**Here's where I get Vague, and it's my main reason for not being able to write a full story for this...**

_**At the party Sheldon ticks some people off ('cause he's Sheldon) and he and Amy end up having to run from a disgruntle crowd ( I don't know what he could do to upset so many people, but hey...it's Sheldon)...(plus the thought of the two of them running away makes me smile)**_

**Please don't let the vagueness of that deter you from reading! I'm just feeling rushed at the moment. Plus, you know you wanna find out who Amy is dressed as!**

**Sheldon's P.O.V.**

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><p>As I pull us into a nearby alley, I release my hold on Amy's arm and try to catch my breath, bending over to rest my hands upon my knees. I listen for the sound of running footsteps and angry shouts over my panting- not a particularly hard task considering my Vulcan hearing- and I relax when I'm greeted by the typical sounds of a normal Pasadena night.<p>

With the fear of being caught vanquished, I attempt to straighten my posture- careful not to lean back against the concrete wall that was no doubt teeming with deadly bacteria. I turn my attention toward Amy, who is still hunched forward, her loose hair shrouding her face from my view as she continues to fight for air.

My brow furrows as I recall her plight in keeping up with my long strides, how she had cursed her boots for their lack of practicality in running, and how I had grabbed her by the crook of her elbow and urged her forward. I then notice that while one hand is resting on her knee as she attempts to steady her breathing, the other is resting over the spot I had previously held. Have I caused her harm? At this possibility, I feel my heart plummet into my stomach- a medical impossibility, but still- the very notion that I could have inflicted physical pain upon Amy makes me ill.

"Amy?"

My voice doesn't betray nearly as much panic as I feel, and when she doesn't answer immediately to my query, I hesitantly reach to touch her shoulder; cautious now that I consider my extremities to be weapons.

It's at this moment that she raises her head, and my hand lingers uncertainly in the air between us as I take in her expression. She is still winded- a fact that is apparent by her parted lips and huffing breaths- yet she does not appear to be in distress. Quite the contrary, in fact, the sides of her mouth are turned up in what would be a smile, her eyes- not obscured by her glasses, as she had opted for contacts to promote the authenticity of her costume- are bright with mischief, her cheeks flushed from adrenalin.

"Well," She begins, in that oh-so familiar tone that was equal parts blunt honesty and cheerfulness. "That was certainly exciting."

My out stretched hand falls back to my side- gone unnoticed by Amy- as I release a relieved breath of air, and the knot in my stomach subsides.

"Tell me," Amy continues, "Do most comic book gatherings end in pursuit?"

"More often than you would think." I tell her in all seriousness, despite my feeling that her question may have been rhetorical or even spoken in jest. "Although you may not be aware, this is not the first time I've had to outrun an angry mob."

"I find myself surprisingly unsurprised by that fact." Amy replies, with no trace of the condescension or derision that I often receive from others; In fact, the look that Amy gives me is something akin to admiration. "You were truly the endowment of your superhero persona."

I touch the lightening bolt symbol on the front of my Flash costume, beaming at Amy's praise, and feeling warmth spread within my chest.

"Why, thank you," I preen, so pleased that I can't help but return the compliment. "And might I say that you were every bit the heroine as well this night- especially given your inexperience in this type of endeavor."

By now Amy has gained normal function of her respiratory system and is standing fully, her cheeks are still tinted a most lovely shade of rose as her eyes dart toward the ground in what I have come to understand is a shy gesture.

She peeks up at me, lip quirked to one side almost coyly, her bangs- temporarily dyed white- fall to perfectly frame the sides of her face, the color gleaming from the light of a nearby street lamp.

"Thank you, Sheldon."

It's extremely rare for me to find myself rendered speechless, or to be stunned to such a degree that I feel almost foolish, and yet this is the second time tonight that Amy has effected me this way- the first being when she arrived at my door fully dressed in costume.

My heart is suddenly pounding against my chest, despite having fully recovered from my previous running, and I feel overcome by my desire to…to do…_something_. I wonder if the lightheaded feeling I'm experiencing is the lingering effects of exhaustion, or the result of the accidental shot of alcohol I consumed prior to our exit, or if Amy really does possess some mutant ability of her own that is effecting me.

Then my eyes focus on Amy's quirked lips, and without any true consent from my brain I find that I am leaning forward. I am distantly relieved that she did not decide to wear lipstick, because I am reasonably sure that I am about to kiss her, and I'd rather not have the additional worry of makeup residue being transferred from her lips to mine.

My eyes have fallen shut of their own accord, my body a willing accomplice to something stronger than logic- although up until tonight, I had seriously doubted there could be anything stronger. I expect to feel my lips brush against Amy's as I am already in such close proximity, and yet-

"Sheldon, wait."

My eyes immediately snap open and I find that Amy has pulled back slightly, one of her gloved hands lightly pushing against the front of my shoulder as if to help maintain distance. Her brow is furrowed, her lips a thin line- gone is the whimsical smile and light hearted glint in her eyes.

_'Oh, dear'_

I take a few stumbling steps back, shocked at what I had been about to do, and even more surprised by my disappointment in not succeeding. Behind these two feelings is confusion; Amy has never seemed adverse to my touching her -quite the opposite- and yet her wary expression clearly indicates some error on my part.

"Have I…violated some sort of boyfriend protocol?" I ask, hands clenching nervously at my sides.

"No, of course not." Amy is quick to shake her head. "You've done nothing wrong."

Her earnest reply leaves me all the more baffled by her previous behavior.

"Then there is another reason you don't desire my affections?"

"Sheldon, don't be absurd." she states, frowning at me. "You know I want nothing more than your affections."

_'Yes, I had thought as much.'_

"And yet?" I prod.

She sighs, looking distressed. "I find myself feeling inexplicably insecure and…confused by your behavior."

"Oh." I think for a moment. "And there is nothing I can do to remedy this?"

She hesitates, so I try to approach the situation in a different way; giving in to Penny and Leonard's assertion that compliments win you good favor.

"Have I not fully expressed how spectacular you look this evening?" I ask, although I fully recall her blush at an early compliment. "Your costume is quite up to standard and you, yourself, make a very engaging-"

"Sheldon, stop." If anything, she looks all the more upset by my words, pulling the front of her trench coat together to hide the bright yellow and green underneath. "You have made more than enough obligatory comments on my appearance tonight, and it is that which is causing my dilemma."

I stare at her in exasperated confusion and she sighs apologetically.

"I fear my appearance tonight has altered your judgment," She explains, "And so I require verbal confirmation."

I nod my encouragement for her to continue, by now my curiosity has taken presidency over all other emotions including my mounting impatience. She seems to brace herself, face serious and jaw set in determination; an expression that only intensifies her heroic appearance.

"I need to know that you wish to kiss _me_, Amy Farrah Fowler, and not the fictional character that I have emulated this night."

I only have a moment to be stunned by the ridiculous notion that Amy has presented me with before I let out a few huffing laughs. Amy's sense of humor always takes me by surprise.

My amusement fades at Amy's slight pout of annoyance.

"I find nothing comical about this situation." she states.

I frown, head tilted to one side is bewilderment.

"So then your suggestion that I am unaware of whom I am choosing to engage in lip contact is not an attempt at humor?" I ask, still expecting the 'Bazinga'.

She shakes her head, still as serious as before, yet I am no less taken aback by how ridiculous her words are.

"Amy, that's absurd," I tell her, taking on that exasperated and somewhat surperior tone that is most often used when explaining things to Penny. "While I have admitted that you make a most convincing Rogue of the X-men (2004 addition of Rogue volume 3) I would never attempt such an act of affection with a woman whose mutant abilities would no doubt render me unconscious upon contact; nor do I find the idea of her absorbing my psyche to be anything but unpleasant and evasive."

"Further more, she is not my girlfriend. " I state, my voice losing some of its condescending edge. "You, Amy Farrah Fowler, are."

Before I can truly register the relieved and elated expression on Amy's face, she is quickly closing the distance between us, hands gripping my shoulders as she stands on the tip of her toes to press her lips against mine. The kiss is fierce, and unexpected, and as with most of the other kisses she's managed to betsow on me, brief.

Usually I am not opposed to her ending a kiss quickly (I find I am less likely to panic if not given enough time to process what is happening) yet as she pulls away, I find myself moving forward to capture those lips again. I feel her momentarily freeze, her hands sliding down from my shoulders to my chest as my own hands have found a place upon her waist, securing her in front of me.

Then she responds, lips pressing back against mine in a mutal display of affection that has my heart once again beating irratically- something she is probably aware of given the placment of her hands on my chest. Her kiss becomes more eager, her lips parting, and it's not until I realize that I am about to allow her entry into my own mouth that rationality returns to me.

I jerk back, staring at Amy in wide eyed panic with my arms held out to either side of me, uncertain what to do with my hands now that I'm no longer holding her. Amys own expression is similiarly stunned, her eyes wide and cheeks flushed and lips slightly puffy from the kiss.

"Hoo," the airy sound she makes causes my stomach to flip nervously, but the smile that comes to her face is that of 'Smart, happy, Amy' and not 'Crazy, lustful, Amy' and my panic subsides some.

"This evening has far exceeded my expectations." she informs me, looking quite pleased. "I believe the mutal sharing of each others interests was a well placed addition to our relationship agreement."

The mention of our contract makes the last of my nervousness disappear; the relationship agreement is something I understand, something safe and controlled.

I sigh and nod once.

"And as per our agreement- or compromise- I am obligated to endure a night of harp music followed by cuddling."

I sulk in my usual display of aversion.

"Fair is fair." Amy reminds me.

I scoff.

"I hardly agree with that sentiment," I'm quick to retort, "While you have no doubt enjoyed tonights events, having never participated in such things before, I am quite aware of my dislike of the harp, and for prolonged intimacy and physical contact."

"I'll wear the costume." She offers.

I immediately yield. "Very well."

While no further words are exchanged on the topic, I know that we've come to a mutual understanding of sorts, and the silence that stretches between us is appreciative and contemplative; devoid of the awkwardness so many others seem to experience in times of prolonged silence within close proximity to another person.

There is no discomfort with Amy- there rarely is- however our current location is starting to make me uneasy. I open my mouth to voice my concerns, but Amy speaks first.

"This Alley reeks of discarded animal and vegetable matter and is no doubt teeming with bacteria." She points out. "Shall we leave?"

I let out a relieved gust of air.

"I thought you'd never ask."

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><p><strong>So there it is. I apologize for the grammar, punctuation, spelling ...yadda yadda...any mistakes I made.<strong>

**I had serious doubts about posting this...so...depending on what Kind of feedback I get...I may delete this. **

**As for the story itself...I really felt that Rogue was a fitting choice for Amy...I can see her pulling that kind of look off ( the trench coat and gloves at least adding some layers and making her feel less exposed)...and there's something almost ironic about her going as someone whose powers don't allow for much human contact XD**


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